It was fun to drop the news on friends and family. My roommate didn’t believe me at first. I sent the ultrasound photos to friends via chat, and 2/3 of them thought it was a photo of snow. (In fairness, the weather was TERRIBLE that day.) My mom said it was an answer to prayer – not at ALL the response I expected.

I spent entirely too much time running around looking for apartments before we finally found a great place in a great location in our price range. We moved in when I was just starting to show. It was very weird to not be able to help move furniture or carry boxes. After an exhausting day of carrying the things I could carry, I went to Simone’s and ate a giant pile of nachos and felt sad that I couldn’t have a beer (Lent, not pregnancy).

My last really great run was 7.5 miles with a coworker on the day we signed our lease. Nagging back pain led me to change my registration for the Illinois Marathon weekend from the half to the 10K. It was hard to let go of the idea of being able to PR when I had been getting SO MUCH FASTER before I got pregnant, and then it was hard to let go of the idea of racing, and then it was hard to let go of the distance. Instead, I felt fantastic running a solid 5K, and then N joined me (with Annette’s race registration) to run the 10K.

I developed temporary sensitivities to foods I previously ate all the time – specifically dairy. I cried when I realized I might not be able to have ice cream or a good cappuccino for months. Lactaid helped for a month, and then I decided to just live with the side effects of eating dairy because the side effects of Lactaid were worse.

I felt the baby move for the first time around the beginning of week 19, while we were sitting in traffic on Lakeshore Drive. I wasn’t sure, but there it was again, a tiny plink in my lower abdomen. I forced N’s hand onto my belly numerous times over the next week and a half until we were on a long walk and I stopped dead in my tracks near the Adler Planetarium, grabbed his hand, and he felt the baby for the first time.

I had to stop running around week 25. I had cut way back due to what I later identified as Braxton-Hicks contractions (and just being tired), but I’d kept up with a couple of runs per week until a 4 mile run  to Bridgeport and back left me in tears. I wasn’t ready to be done, but I was done nonetheless.

We made up for the lack of running with long bike rides on the weekends. N hadn’t ever biked in the city until last fall, but he picked up a Divvy with me and we rode to the far south end of the Lakefront Path, up north for coffee, all over. I found a safe route to work, and was able to ride in five days in a row during Bike to Work Week.

After one of those rides, I got my first pregnant lady privilege – I stopped for a pastry, and the woman ahead of me let me take the last chocolate croissant.

We went to Neo for what would turn out to be the last time – after knocking two items off my Chicago Bucket List, we went to New Wave Prom. The regular bartender gave me a once-over, asked “Is there a baby in there?”, and congratulated us. The last time we’d been was for my birthday, days before we found out.

I got defensive about being touched without permission, but it turned out that the only transgressive belly touches of my entire pregnancy came from two friends, and I didn’t mind at all.

I went to Vegas for work at 27 weeks. It was 115F, and I literally swooned on a street corner from the heat, and then again in a fancy restaurant after too much walking. I hated Vegas and hated being away from home, and so spent as much time as I could in the pool or eating frozen yogurt. My flight home was canceled due to severe weather. That’s what happens when you curse Vegas.

We watched a LOT of the World Cup. Baby and I bet for Belgium to beat the US, which they did, and now we have a debt owed to us by Vegas bookies.

Until halfway through the trimester, I was barely showing. By the end of it, my belly was unmistakable.